Into Darkness
by LadyFayre
Summary: Thrown together by tragedy and fate Faelyn Tabris, Raynar Amell, and Allistair must work together to end the new blight before it destroys the world as they know it. Throughout everything, can they stay sane and save Ferelden or will tension within their group tear them apart? Retelling of the events of DA:O. Reviews and constructive criticisms are welcome.
1. Chapter One: Change

Blood dripped from her fingers as her twin blades scythed through his throat, severing his head from his body. Blood jetted from the stump of his neck, a macabre red shower. Even as he lay dead, blood pooling around his corpse, Faelyn fell to her knees plunging her blades into his chest once more.

A ragged sob broke free from her throat, both terrified at what she could do and that she'd been too late to stop her cousin from being raped. She had used the skills her mother taught her to steal, to sneak around and remain undetected, but never once in all that time had Faelyn taken a life.

Vaughan was not the first person she had killed today, but he was the last. His death and the horror he had wrought were the straw that broke the druffalo's back. Like Shianni, Faelyn would be forever changed by this day.

She cried for a moment, briefly mourning Nola, Nelaros, and all the elven women who'd entered these halls and came out changed or dead. She would have time to mourn after she got everyone to safety.

With her tears drying streaks in the blood on her face, Faelyn stood with a new determination. A new purpose. Get Soris, Shianni, and the others back to the alienage and the families that cared for them. Keys in hand she released the other women, leading them through the manor and out into the streets.

Back-alleys and shadows hid the group from prying eyes, while sharply whispered words kept the noise down. Finally the gates came into view, freedom and prison all in one.

As soon as she was able she changed out of her bloodstained wedding dress and into a long tunic and breeches. The same people who had just recently congratulated her on her well made match were now staring solemnly as she silently mourned her almost husband.

Even if she hadn't been propping up--almost dragging--Shianni, she wouldn't have had the strength to carry Nelaros back with her. Faelyn slipped the ring he gave her on a cord with the one he'd been wearing when she found him.

She'd cried all her tears and as they dried on her cheeks Valendrian approached, the human--Duncan?--in tow.

He gazed at her with sorrow written across his features. "Thank the Maker, you've returned. Has Shianni been hurt? Where is Nola?" The look in her eyes said it all before Valora could speak.

Tears flowed anew from Valora's eyes and her mousey voice quivered as she spoke. "Nola didn't make it. She resisted and..." She sobbed unable to finish her sentence.

"...They killed her," Shianni finished, her voice oddly calm after her ordeal. It was clear she was already repressing what had happened in the manor.

Soris rested his hand on Faelyn's shoulder, pity in his eyes. "Nelaros too. The guards killed him." Were she not physically and emotionally exhausted, Faelyn may have broken down again. But she didn't, her limbs felt heavy and light at the same time, as if she were floating in water.

Valendrian nodded. "I see... Ladies, please take Shianni home. She needs rest." Shianni almost protested but the dead look in her cousin's eyes stilled her tongue. With a nod of understanding she allowed herself to be led away. Valendrian returned his attention to Faelyn and Soris.

"Now, tell me what happened." His steely eyes bored into theirs, his sorrowful gaze sweeping their faces.

After a moment she spoke, her voice flat. "Vaughan's dead on the floor like a mongrel." She met the keeper's eye and held his gaze. "He didn't deserve to live. What he did to the women before us... Monsters like that need to be put down."

Valendrian shook his head, sorrow melting into worry. "Maker preserve us all."

After watching the exchange silently the human spoke, his voice calm. "Then the garrison could already be on its way. You have little time." His knowing eyes briefly scanned the two of them, assessing them.

Faelyn raised her eyes to meet Soris'. "We might need to leave Denerim. Wait until this is over." She almost hoped she was right. Almost.

Keeper Valendrian shook his head sadly, sighing. "That it has come to this. I loathe to see either of you harmed."

There was a commotion at the gates as a dozen armed guards marched in, their arrival heralded by a red-headed boy, not yet sixteen. Soris turned around, his features wrought with panic.

"Calm. Don't panic." Their keeper's low voice broke through. "Let's see what comes of this." Silently the group watched the guards approach, the soldiers' mail clinking as they marched.

As they came to a stop, the captain spoke. His voice rung in the silence that had fallen over the alienage. "We seek Valendrian, elder and administrator of this alienage!"

Valendrian stepped forward, his chin raised, almost in defiance. "Here, Captain. I suppose you are here about today's disruption?" He enquired, his voice even and calm.

The Captain was taken aback. "Do not pretend ignorance, Valendrian! You won't stop justice from being served." His piercing gaze scanned the gathered elves. "The Arl's son lies dead in a river of blood that runs through the entire palace!" He raised his voice for all those gathered to hear. "I need names and I need them now!" The captain's grey beard quivered with barely controlled rage.

Knowing there was only one way to end this, Faelyn squeezed Soris' hand and stepped out of the crowd. "It was me. I did it. I killed Vaughan and all his lackeys!"

The guard captain laughed--actually laughed. "You honestly expect me to believe that one woman did all that?" With the way he looked she may have well claimed to be Queen Anora.

"We aren't all helpless, Captain," she replied, her voice lacking it's normal vigor.

"You save many be coming forward. I applaud your courage." He pulled from his belt a pair of handcuffs and proceeded to lock Faelyn into them. The cold metal bit into her wrists, but she didn't care. She'd done one last good thing. She saved Soris from this fate.

"Take her to the dungeons to await the Arl's return. The rest of you, back to your houses! There's nothing more to see here!" The captain near bellowed, his voice echoing. His instructions cleared the area quickly, no one else wanting to be led away in cuffs as well. Soon, only the guards and the original group remained.

Before she could be led away, a heavy hand fell on her shoulder. looking up, she saw Duncan offer her a small smile before calling to the captain.

"Captain? A word, if I may?"

With and exasperated huff the guard turned. "What is it, Grey Warden? As you can see," He swept his arm out, gesturing, "everything is well under control."

The Rivani nodded. "Be that as it may, I invoke the Right of Conscription. I remove this woman into my custody." Faelyn stared in muted awe, having been unaware that the Grey Wardens could do that.

Faelyn didn't know what to say. Or do, even. She swivelled, her emerald gaze locking with the older human's. "You can do that?" She murmured, her voice barely loud enough to be heard.

Soris nearly exploded with excitement, his cousin was going to live! "Ya hear that?!" He almost shouted. "You can't touch her! Let her out of those cuffs!" Somehow he was still standing there, instead of running around the alienage shouting the news.

The look on the guard captain's face was priceless. "Son of a tied down..." he exclaimed, continuing with a sigh. "Very well. I cannot challenge your rights. I ask only that you get her out of the city. Today."

Duncan's grip on her shoulder tightened momentarily, before he let his hand fall, nodding to the other man. Seemingly satisfied, he guard captain unlocked the cuffs and turned to his men.

One of the armored men spoke up then, "Captain, Ser, if this is settled, shouldn't we focus on damage control? The news will be getting out any moment now."

The captain nodded. "That is true O'Connell. Move out!" The assembled group watched as they marched out of the alienage, tension easing from their muscles.

Faelyn, relieved as she were, couldn't help but feel nervous. Only rarely had she heard of the Grey Wardens, and almost never an elven one.

Duncan turned her to face him, his amber Rivani eyes locking with hers. "You're with me now." His voice solemn, as if her knew what it was like to leave home and family. "Say your goodbyes and see me when you're ready. We leave as soon as I've gathered the horses."

Faelyn nodded, her heart constricting at the thought of leaving the only home and family she had. "I understand," she muttered, her normally confident voice meek.

"I know it is hard, but do not take long. I agreed to have you out of the city forthwith."

She turned to Soris, still by her side, always her friend. He pulled her into a tight hug, not wanting to let her go. "Thank you. You saved my life back there."

She stifled a chuckle against his chest. "I did what was right... what any would do for family."

It was Soris' turn to chuckle as he pulled away. "Always valiant. It's time to follow your lead. I'm done with daydreaming. I'm settling down with Valora. She has ideas. She'll make lives easier here. For everyone." His eyes glazed as he remembered what had happened. "Will you see Shianni before you leave?"

At her nod, he pulled her back into his arms. "Good luck cousin. You've always been my hero, its just official now."

Walking slowly, Faelyn took time to bid everyone farewell. She shared a tear filled hug with Dilwyn, her aunt, not by blood but by bond.

"Maybe this is best," Dilwyn whispered as she pulled away. "Now go see Cyrion, he's worried to bits."

Her shoulders slouched as she made her way home, slipping through the door. Her father's eyes lit up upon spying her.

His voice cracked, tears lining his eyes. "If... if this is what the Maker has planned, then it's for the best. Adaia would be proud." Cyrion smiled sadly, gazing at the daughter that looked so much like his late wife.

Faelyn nodded, her throat constricting. "I hope so."

Cyrion pulled her into a hug, placing a kiss to her hair. "Take care, da'len. Be safe... And wise. And--know that we'll all miss you." Pulling away, Faelyn planted a kiss on his cheek, a single tear falling.

She disentangled her arms and went to her room, wrapping her meager possessions into a tight roll. With a smile over her shoulder, she walked to Shianni's door.

A soft knock announced her to her cousin, who wasted no time folding herself into Faelyn's arms. It was a sorrowful embrace, each knowing what was going on, yet neither having the guts to say it.

With a shaky breath, Faelyn pulled away, holding Shianni's hands. "I have to leave soon."

A nod was the only response. As Faelyn made her way to the door, arms wrapped around her midsection. "There's something I need to say first. Whenever I needed you, you were there. What happened--" she drew a shaking breath. "It was beyond anything I'd have expected of you. When it was at its worst, there you were with fire in your eyes." Shianni's voice took on a near reverent tone. "It was like something from a storybook. I'll never forget that. I love you. Make us proud."

She twisted in her cousin's arms, kissing her forehead. "I love you too, Shianni."

 _Deep breath_ , she thought, _keep walking_. She had no more tears to shed, nor energy to give voice her sorrow. She hugged Keeper Valendrian as she came to him.

Duncan stood by his side, three Ferelden Forders standing idly by him. "Ready?" He inquired, his voice soft.

She choked back the lump in her throat, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "Yes."

"Good," was the response. "We leave for the Circle immediately." He handed her the reins to her mount, a tall bay gelding, before lacing his fingers to help her mount. She sat unsteadily as she waited for him to mount his gray mare.

The horse stepped forward, the lurching gait nearly unseating her. With a mischievious twinkle in his eye, he chuckled, "You'll get used to it. Squeeze with your thighs and hold the reins loosly. He'll follow me and Kara."

Still holding the lead to the last horse, it's saddle pilled with supplies, they set out. Soon Denerim was growing smaller as they travelled westward toward the banks of Lake Callenhad and the Circle Tower.


	2. Chapter Two: Betrayal

Ten days after leaving Denerim, Faelyn groaned in near ecstasy as the shimmer of Lake Callenhad grew nearer. Her rump was numb from hours in the saddle, her feet aching from new blisters.

Duncan pushed them faster, his horse speeding to a ground-eating lope. The lake was a stone's throw away when the sun began its descent, red-gold rays of sun illuminating the Tower.

Night was only just settling over the land as they approached an inn on the shores of the lake. Though the Spoiled Princess was a dingy little bar and inn, they were well cared for.

Duncan rented two adjoining rooms for them, and Faelyn was relieved. Bathing in rivers and streams had left her skin feeling gritty. Her first order of business was bathing.

She was asleep long before Duncan appeared with dinner. Like the previous nights, her sleep was plagued with nightmares-memories from her almost wedding day.

She tossed and turned in her sleep, soft cries coming from her. She woke an hour before dawn, drenched in sweat, a yell bubbling up her throat.

Each scene from her dreams crashed into her, sending her pulse skyrocketing. On silent feet she padded outside, the chill air biting through her threadbare tunic. She splashed into the lake, the icy water offering much need solace.

That was where Duncan found her an hour later, sitting on a boulder, soaked to the bone, watching the sun's first rays peek around the stone tower.

Though his armor offered little protection, he waded out, standing before her, offering a hunk of bread and a slice of cheese.

He smiled when she took it, ravenous from a lack of supper the previous day. "When you're done, go dress. We leave for the Tower in an hour's time."

With her nod, he left. She finished her food and waded deeper into the lake, as if willing the cold water to invade her body and numb her aching heart. She dried and dressed quickly, braiding her bronze hair down her back.

The trip to the Tower was boring, the sound of four oars rhythmically hitting the water and the occasional grunt that followed the labor lulled her into a state of relative peace. This mind numbing peace lasted only until the boat's hull bumped against the dock, shocking her from her reverie.

Inside the Tower they were met by a tall Templar and a wizened old mage. They greeted her with a nod before speaking with Duncan. Bored, Faelyn tuned them out, their voices becoming a buzz.

She took in her surrounding as she was led through this maze of a tower. She spied mages of all ages studying or cleaning or practicing spells. They also passed a curious sight. Two Templars were dragging an unconscious mage down the hall, his leather slippers barely touching the floor.

Faelyn cleared her throat. "Uh, pardon?" She scrambled for his name. "Irving? What's up with him?" She pointed at the group.

A low chuckle met her ears. "My dear, he's just passed his Harrowing." Irving smiled over his shoulder. Faelyn lifted a brow towards Duncan. His expression telling her that he would explain later.

As they passed through the library, she ran her fingers over the spines of the books. The Chantry mothers taught the alienage kids to read and she'd always loved getting lost in books.

She smiled, imagining all the secrets that could be found here.

"Would you like to stay here a while?" Duncan asked, watching her. "I must speak with Irving and Knight-Commander Greagoir... Alone." His hazel eyes bored into her blue ones.

Faelyn perked up, nodding vigorously. She split off and started browsing the tomes. There were more here than in the meager library in the Chantry. Most were of magic or history, but tucked away in a corner were the books she sought.

Books on creatures and birds, those describing plants, and even three books on fish. One caught her attention, its leather spine more worn than the ones surrounding it. She pulled it from the shelf. It was a first edition copy of Liber Herbarium. Faelyn was beside herself with joy.

A quick glance over her shoulder revealed no one looking so she slipped the tome into her pack. Pulling another down she sat and began reading, awaiting Duncan's summons.

In the apprentices quarters of the Mage's Tower Raynar Amell was being shaken awake.

Shake. "Are you alright?" Another shake. "Tell me you're okay." Shake. Shake.

With a groan, Raynar rolled over and sat on the edge of his bunk. "Jowan."

Jowan's joy was nearly palpable. "Oh, I'm glad you're alright. They carried you in this morning." He took a step closer, lowering his voice though the room was empty save the two of them. "I've heard rumors. Is it really dangerous? What was it like?"

Rubbing his temples, Raynar took a moment before answering. "To be honest?" Dramatic pause. "It was... harrowing."

Jowan followed as Raynar made for the communal washing area, pushing his robes around his waist. "Throw a dog a bone. Just a hint, and I'll stop. I swear."

Pulling the divider between them, Raynar stripped of his robes. "Why bother asking? You know it's forbidden. Anyways, you'll go through it soon enough." He rang out a washcloth and began bathing.

A soft sigh came from the other side of the canvas. "Yeah, you get to move to the mage quarters while I'm stuck here." The shadow on the divider moved, Jowan was running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "I don't even know when they'll call me for my Harrowing."

Pulling clean robes over his head, Raynar tsked. "They'll summon you when you're ready. You know this."

Pushing past the canvas, Raynar ran a comb through his dark brown hair, still damp from his morning ablutions.

"I've been here longer than you. I'm starting to think they don't want to test me." Jowan seemed almost forlorn.

That brought a laugh from Raynar's chest. "Come now! You're just being paranoid."

"No," He insisted. "I'm scared of what will happen to me. It's the Harrowing, Tranquilization, or death. That's what happens."

Slinging an arm around Jowan's shoulders, Raynar led them towards the hall. "You worry too much, my friend. Frankly, it's getting annoying."

Jowan's face fell. "Oh! By the way, I was supposed to tell you to see Irving when you woke up."

The first enchanter was pleasant enough, for a stodgy old man. "Well then, I'll go immediately. I'll be scrubbing chamber pots for a week if I keep the old codger waiting any longer." He pushed open the door to the hallway, his arm dropping from around his friend's shoulders.

"We'll speak later." With no one else delaying him, Raynar made his way to the second floor of the Tower. He found his way to the First Enchanter's office quickly, having been a fair few times.

He knocked on the door jamb, announcing his presence. From his place in the hall, he caught the tail end of a conversation.

"...many have already gone--Whynne, Uldred, most of the senior mages!" Knight-Commander Greagoir sounded mad. That was never good. "We've committed enough of our own!"

Irving chuckled. "Your own? Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages?"

The dark haired man cleared his throat, "Irving, someone is here to see you."

"So, yeah. What's going on? You sent for me?" Raynar asked, treading lightly into the room.

The first enchanter waved his hand, dismissing Raynar's question. "Nothing to concern you."

The dark haired man stepped forward, seeming to appraise him. "Is this he?" Irving's nod was the only answer.

Greagoir walked to the door turning back to speak. "We will discuss this later, First Enchanter."

Another nod. "Of course. Raynar, this is Duncan of the Grey Wardens."

Raynar's eyes shone brightly. He'd read anything he could get his hands on about the Wardens. "A Grey Warden? In the tower? Does this have to do with the war to the south?"

Duncan chuckled, "Grey Wardens go wherever duty sends them. As for me, I'm recruiting mages to join the King's army at Ostagar."

"It would be an honor to defend Ferelden," Raynar gushed, his excitement near palpable.

"What with the darkspawn, we need all the help we can get. Especially from the mages." Duncan's voice hardened as he spoke of the darkspawn.

Raynar didn't quite understand. "What do you mean? Most mages, here at least, don't like fighting."

Duncan nodded. "I understand, but mages are an asset to any army. Your spells are quite effective. Though I fear a blight if we don't drive the darkspawn back."

"Duncan," Irving admonished. "Don't worry the boy with talk of Blights and darkspawn. This is a happy day. He passed his Harrowing!"

"We live in troubled times, old friend."

Irving smiled, a curving of his beard the only indication. "Exactly. Seize every moment of levity, /especially/ in troubled times." The First Enchanter's attention returned to the new mage. "The Harrowing is over, your phylactery has been sent to Denerim. Everything's official. I welcome you as a mage of the Circle."

Raynar bowed slightly, "Its an honor, First Enchanter."

At Duncan's confused look, Irving explained what a phylactery was.

Briefly, Duncan's face scrunched in anger, "So they can be tracked if they turn apostate."

"Magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove we are strong enough to control it." Irving looked at Raynar before grabbing a package from his desk. "You have done this. Here are your robes, an ironwood staff, and a ring with the Circle's insignia. Wear them with pride."

"Thank you, First Enchanter, I'm glad to be a part of the circle."

Irving chuckled, "Take the day to rest, or study, or what have you. The day is yours."

Seeing an opening, Duncan chose that time to excuse himself, wishing to return to his quarters. At Irving's insistence, Raynar led the Warden back to his chamber.

When they arrived, he spied several Tranquil moving another bed into the guest chambers.

"What's with the extra bed? Didn't like yours?" Raynar joked.

"Thank you for escorting me, though I have a favor to ask of you." At his questioning stare Duncan continued. "There is an elf in the library on the first floor. Red hair, blue eyes, mean as a snake and just as quick. She's a Grey Warden recruit. Tell her that she has free run of the tower, maybe show her around?"

He shrugged. "Why not? Got nothing else to do today." He bowed his head as he walked out the room, the door closing silently behind him.

He strode down the hall, whistling as he kept an eye out for the red haired elf. He walked back towards Irving's study, stopping in the Chapel to pray for a moment.

His prayers were interupted by Jowan and a woman, a priest no less. Jowan explained the situation quickly. Lily, the priest initiate, was the woman he'd been seeing for some time. The templars were planning on making him Tranquil and he needed help destroying his phylactery.

Against his better judgement, Raynar agreed to help, rationalizing that Jowan was a friend and that he'd do the same if roles were reversed. They decided that they would meet just before midnight to get everything under way.

After leaving the chapel, Raynar went to the library, searching for the Warden recruit. He noticed her pouring over a copy of Brother Verne's Bestiary.

His aproached was unnoticed, her attention solely on the book. "Hello, you must be the recruit Duncan spoke of!"

She looked up from her book, seeming to size him up before dismissing him. "Leave me be, shemlen."

He shrugged, pulling a book from the shelf and paging through it. "So, yeah, animals and beasties, right? Interesting. Believe it or not but we've got more on the subject upstairs." He sat at the table next to hers. "Duncan asked that I show you around. I could take you there, if you wish."

Faelyn shrugged, her blue eyes focusing on him for a moment, excitement lancing through her. "Sure." She closed her book, slipping it in her pack while returning a different one to the shelf.

"Lead on, mage." She smirked, heaving her bag to her shoulder.

"Raynar." At her look he explained further. "Name's Raynar Amell. What's yours?" She shrugged before answering.

"Faelyn."

Raynar led onward, "A beautiful name. Hmm. Means something like lake spirit, right?" He looked over his shoulder.

Faelyn nodded, "That's what Mother said it meant. Says she and da met by the Drakon, but didn't know the word for river."

They arrived at the upper library in companionable silence, where they spent hours reading, and comparing books. Having grown up in the allienage, Faelyn had never found someone who was content to just read silently, without griping that it was boring.

Unbelievably she found herself warming to this mage, though she continued to call him "Shem." After supper, she retired to her room with Duncan, where she fell asleep quickly.

At the same time, Raynar was making his was through the catacombs beneath the tower, Jowan and Lily in tow.

Their task complete, they returned to the first floor, hoping beyond hope that their absence had not yet been noted. Gazing out a window, Raynar decided it was just before dawn, much longer that they had planned to be gone.

"So what you said was true, Irving." From across the room came Knight-Commander Greagoir's voice. "An initiate conspiring with a bloodmage. I'm disappointed, Lily."

Greagoir pointed an armored finger at Raynar. "And you. Newly a mage and yet you flout the rules!"

Irving looked genuinely devastated. "I'm disappointed. You could have told me of this plan, yet you didn't." He shook his head sadly.

"You don't care for the mages!" Jowan started.

"Please, don't make this any worse Jowan," Raynar begged.

"Enough!" Came Greagoir's shout, one of the templars reaching for Lily.

Pulling a dagger from his boot, Jowan cut his palm. "You will not touch her!" He raised his hands and brought them down quickly, a wave of blood magic knocking everyone down and out. He turn to Lily, but she backed away.

"I do not know you blood mage." She shook her head, turning away. With tears in his eyes, Jowan ran from the tower.


	3. Chapter 3: Second Chances

An hour passed before everyone began to wake from Jowan's foul magic. Raynar rushed to help Irving up.

"First Enchanter, Jowan he--"

With a wave of his hand, Irving silenced Raynar. "I know. He's fled. Are you alright? Where is Greagoir?" He accepted Raynar's help to stand, unsteady on his feet for a moment.

"...Blood magic!" A familiar voice growled. "I never thought him capable of such power."

Raynar was absolutely seething. Jowan lied to him. His best friend of fourteen years had lied to him. "Dammit! He lied to me!"

Irving gazed at the young mage, his expression sorrowful. "None of us expected this. Are you alright, Greagoir?" A nod was the only responce.

"He can't have gone far. If you mobilize the templars you might could still get him." Raynar quieted quickly, the Knight-Commander's face near purple with anger.

He pinned the young mage with his stare, his voice quivering with barely controlled rage. " We will use every available resource. Where is the girl?"

"Here, ser," a meek voice called from her hiding place by the stairs.

"You willingly aided a blood mage! Look at these men! You hurt them just as much as he did!" The Knight-Commander was yelling now. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just... get her out of my sight."

Raynar knew he was in more trouble when everyone turned to him. "Did you take anything from the repository?" Irving queried.

"No." Raynar lied, thinking about the Heartwood staff in his enchanted bag.

Irving eyes softened momentarily, "I believe you."

"Your antics have made a mockery of the circle!" Greagoir again.

Raynar stuttered, on the verge of losing his temper. "I didn't know he was a malifcar. Had I know, I'd have cut ties with that snake long ago!"

"That does not excuse you!" More yelling. "You helped a blood mage escape and we don't even have a phylactery!"

The sound of running footsteps reached them before the people they belonged to. Raynar breathed a sigh of relief at the appearance of Duncan and Faelyn, the pair still sleep ruffled.

"Knight-Commander, if I may? I'm recruiting for the Grey Wardens and Irving spoke highly of him. Instead of Aeonar, let him come with me."

Faelyn mused that Duncan had a thing for collecting strays and criminals. Maybe he sees something in this mage.

Greagoir looked at the Grey Warden in shock. "He is a danger. To all of us."

Duncan placed a heavy hand on Raynar's shoulder. "It is rare for one to risk all to help a friend. I stand by my decision. I /will/ recruit this mage." It was both statement and challenge. Duncan knew that no one could protest the Rite of Conscription, just as the Guard Captain had been unable to.

The thinly veiled challenge had the Knight-Commander stuttering. "No! I will not let this go unpunished!"

Looking between the two Wardens, Raynar spoke softly. "If the Wardens will have me, I'll gladly go."

"Greagoir, I take this mage under my wing and bear all responsibility for his actions." Duncan drew him back, standing shoulder to shoulder with the red haired elf.

"He aids a malifcar in escaping and not only does it go unpunished but he is to be rewarded? Have our rules become nothing!" Greagoir's face became the most curious shade of red in his anger.

A calm voice cut through the tension. "Enough! We will speak on this no more."

Raynar turned to Faelyn, her eyes twinkling mischieviously. "So I'm to be a Grey Warden?" A nod came from her as Irving spoke.

"Take pride. You're luckier than you know." Irving gave the young mage a quick hug, another young bird learning to fly.

"Thank you, First Enchanter. For everything." He held on for a moment longer. "I'll come back someday."

With tears gathering in his eyes, the First Enchanter turned away.

"Come on. Your new life awaits." Duncan led his recruits through the twists of the tower. Back to their rooms. "Take only what you need and can carry. We travel light."

Duncan left to dress while Faelyn stayed to help Raynar pack. "See, roll them tight enough, you have room for a book or what have you." She was being nicer than normal, knowing how hard it was to leave behind her home and family.

When he was finished, Raynar and Faelyn went to join Duncan in the guest quarters. She went behind the divider and changed quickly.

The sun had just fully risen as they loaded into the boat, the long trip to shore as boring as the first time. When they made it across, Faelyn showed Raynar how to get on one of the horses.

"Now just put your foot here, lift up and swing over." She sat nicely atop the horse, having had a lot of practice. She scratched her cheek. "You might need some trousers. Never tried riding in a dress but I don't think it'd be easy. What with 'em riding up and all."

That got to him. "It's not a dress. It's a robe!" Sparks danced on his fingertips, just enough power to sting. Zap!

Faelyn jumped, the sudden movement not bothering the horse. "What's that for? Looks like a dress to me!" Another zap. Touching her heels to the horse she chased the mage around the paddock, poking him with his own staff.

After a moment she slid from the horse, laughing and pink cheeked. "M'sorry. Okay?" She poked him again.

Raynar snatched the staff back. "Yeah. Truce?" He extended his hand.

"For now," Faelyn replied taking the proffered hand.

"Ah, there you are." Duncan sighed. His arms full of supplies, a bag dangling from his hand. He tossed it to Raynar. "Go change. It won't be easy to ride in your robes. Be quick, we leave in an hour."

The day's ride was thankfully uneventful. It would have even been pleasant had Raynar not complained or whined every half hour.

"Why're the saddles so hard? It hurts my bum." Raynar complained. That was it. Faelyn had had enough. She put aside her fear of falling off her horse and jumped the gap, landing behind him on his horse.

She drew her dagger and pressed it to his clean shaven throat. "Andraste's tits! Shem, one more complaint out of you and I'll add one more to my body count. Understand?"

Her dagger bobbed as he swallowed, nervous. "Ye--yeah. Gotcha. No more complaints." He leaned away from the sharp edge. "So, yeah, don't hurt me, right."

A beat passed before the preasure eased and he was able to breathe freely again. It was then that he noticed how close she was to him, her thighs resting against his hips. She moved, gathering her legs beneath her for the leap back to her horse.

Her legs uncoiled, and for a moment, she felt like she was flying... until she realized she had misjudged the distance, her stomach landing squarely on her saddle. She scrambled to regain her breath and get her foot in the stirrup. She missed and fell to the ground, the horse plodding along like nothing had happened.

She growled when Raynar came back around, grinning like a cat. "Shut up and scoot back." She swung herself up in front of him, taking the reins. She hoped he didn't fall. "Hold on, 'cause it's gonna get bumpy!"

As his hands settled on her waist she urged the horse faster, galloping to catch up to her mount and Duncan.

"Maker preserve us!" Raynar exclaimed as they ate up the distance. He held tight to the elf, pressing into her for balance.

"Grab the horse!" Faelyn ordered, slowing the horse beside the riderless beast. When the reins were firmly in hand, she stopped the beast.

She slid off and regained her own mount. Climbing in the saddle she urged it forward as if the fiasco hadn't happened.

Hours later, as they sat around the fire at camp, Raynar pulled his robes and a small pouch from his pack. Humming quietly, he set about altering his clothes. When he was finished his robes fell just below his knees and were split up the front and back.

He smiled as he slipped it on. "Finally! Ya know, I don't see how you do it, wearing those scratchy clothes." He shuddered.

"Shem, you listen close," Faelyn quipped running a whetstone down one of her blades. "I can stand it 'cause I have to. We don't all get to be raised in a cushy tower with silk sheets and velvet robes. Not all of us have that luxury." She turned her eyes down, seething.

She was mad at herself for sharing, mad because life was unfair, and mad that some barely grown mage had the nerve to complain about clothes, of all things! _Deep breath. Don't let the shem get under your skin._

They turned in for the night, to Faelyn's utter disbelief, Raynar kept his word. After the first day of travel and the following night, he didn't complain. When he felt the need to complain, Faelyn discovered, he would ride a ways off. Just out of human hearing range, but still within elven, and complain to his horse.

For the remainder of their trip south, to Lothering, they travelled in companionable silence. Faelyn, who had gotten more confident in her skills as a rider even began reading for short times as she rode.

She did get horsesick, so she read mostly by firelight at camp. At the back of the group, Raynar practiced his spells, zapping leaves with lightning or trying to set biting flies aflame.

Duncan, always watching with half an eye, kept close watch over his charges. Periodically he would turn his focus inward, searching the surroundings for the hot sting of darkspawn taint, thankful every time he found nothing.

Having been taken to the circle in his sixth year, Raynar was amazing at the sights they passed. Ancient monoliths touching the sky, trees with flame colored leaves, on their seventh day riding they even spooked a herd of halla.

The majestic beasts bleated as they scattered, their white coats shimmering. He stared in awe at the sight, watching intently. His head snapped around when he heard the twang of a bowstring.

"What are you doing!" He shouted, his eyes darting to a stumbling halla, the arrow's shaft sticking out the beasts neck.

Faelyn looked back at him, notching another arrow. "Hunting, shem. Now be quiet." She trained her arrow and let it fly, lodging it into the neck of another halla.

She whooped, elated. "Food for days!" She galloped her horse down to her kills, pulling the arrows out.

"Duncan's been teaching me. Practiced on rabbits. Straight through the spine, painless."

It didn't take a genius to tell that the mage was not pleased. "Why would you kill these creatures?!" He bellowed dismounting as she worked.

She looped a rope around a tree branch, tying the beast high the bleed them. "'Cause I ain't seen a rabbit in days and our stores aren't getting any bigger." She patted the shoulder of one of the limp beasts. "These two will get us to Ostagar, shem."

Raynar sputtered, blinking quickly. "I thought they were sacred to your kind, Elf!" He shot back.

"No. Wanna know what is sacred to /my kind?/" She stalked forward wiping her bloodied hands on a spare cloth. "Where I grew up, food is sacred. If you went to sleep full, you were doing well! Money is sacred, cause if you have enough, you can leave!" She poked her finger into his chest. "Until you've lived my life, don't you ever dare tell me what I should hold sacred!"

She stalked back to her kills, preparing the meat, and salting the hides. "If you want to be useful, you can start a fire." Her voice was little more than a whisper.

So he did. Duncan cut saplings to serve as cooking racks, the green wood resisting the hungry flame longest. Iron or steel would have been better, but what they had came in the form of swords and daggers. Not good for roasting.

That night, when setting up the tents, Faelyn set hers a ways away, close enough for safety but far enough away for privacy. On his trip back from bathing, Raynar paused.

Small, barely there sobs were coming from her tent. /Maker's Breath/ he thought. /She's crying./

The next day as they set off, Raynar touched her shoulder, pleading with his eyes for her to stay at the back with him, just for a moment.

"Faelyn," he started. He got no further before she was gone, her horse flying down the path. He watched as she stopped an talked to Duncan for a moment before continuing on, taking point and scouting. And that was how it went for the next five days of their trip.

Every morning, Faelyn would consult Duncan and take point, riding far ahead. They stopped for a few hours in Lothering to restock necessities but nothing else. It seemed she wanted to reach Ostagar in record time.

They camped for the last night beneath a towering ruin, the first of the Tevinter outposts that marked the way to the ruins of Ostagar. Dinner was a stew of halla, wild herbs and edible plants harvested by Faelyn.

The next morning they caught their first glimpse of Ostagar. The two recruits stared in awe of the towering structures, the ruins reaching like fingers into the clouds.

The wilds were just that--Wild. Untamed forest claimed the area, swamps and marshes teemed with life, the world a cacophony of sounds. It would have been beautiful, if it weren't for the underlying stench of rot.

As they approached, the trees thinned, replaced by bracken and stumps. Through a gap in the foliage, Faelyn spied huge gates, made of tree trucks thick as two men standing abreast, bound in steel and closed with looped chains.

Finally they had reached their destination. Duncan rode ahead, speaking quickly with on duty guards. The soldiers turned and began pushing the gates. The chain rattled, hinges squealing as the gates were pulled open, giving them the first glimpse of the King's camp.

Across a long bridge, the camp teemed with life, cook fires blazing, men running to and fro. It was a glorious metropolis of action. At the head of the bridge stood a man in gleaming armor surrounded by his retinue.

Duncan dismounted, handing his horse to a stable boy before greeting the gold-haired man. He spoke quietly, pointing to the recruits before beconing them forward. Raynar and Faelyn followed suit, giving their mounts to the men come to collect them.

They looked at one another for a moment, steeling themselves, before striding forward confidently. Faelyn made up her mind then. She may not have wanted this, but she would accept it and everything else life threw at her.

Raynar had come to a similar decision. No matter what, he would bend--but not break. As they approached Faelyn recognized the crown across the armored man's forehead. She never thought they'd be greeted by King Cailan himself.


End file.
